


A really bad idea

by TooDumbToDie



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: An extremist dies, Canon Non-Binary Character, Character with Neopronouns, Character with They/Them Pronouns, Drinking, Happy Ending, Killdozer, M/M, Other, Recreational Drug Use, don't know what other tags to add
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23424673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooDumbToDie/pseuds/TooDumbToDie
Summary: Tankie kickstarts a poorly thought out plan to deal with the rightists after Centricide has finished.With an independent Post-Left who isn't weak anymore, Insect loving Posadist and a really loud Nazbol.Rating, archive warnings and character tags will change.
Relationships: Left Unity, Post-Left/AuthLeft, ancap/libertarian
Comments: 59
Kudos: 86





	1. Long time no see - Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I didn't use qi/quem pronouns for Post-left but I did use they/them  
> And I wrote this mainly because I was sick and tired of ancom/post left being weak and dependent. If I fuck up any tenses stuff, just comment so I can fix it.

**Long time no see - Chapter One**

I had stopped believing in God a long time ago and that included miracles. Yet I saw one just happen right in front of me. Post-Left.  
I had spent one month sobbing my ass off while listening to nazi berate me for being a weak degenerate and so on and so on. The list never ended but after listening to him berate me, I had had enough. But I didn’t snap out of it. I just got really good at hiding it. Sitting in the nearly empty house, listening to Nazi scream about the Jews or the Blacks or the Gypsies or whatever while I silently cried into Ancom’s old clothes which I moved into my wardrobe. The smell of sweat, blood and pot. I started drinking a lot more. Nazi would yell at me about how I’m going against his western values for lying around crying over a “man” while pissed out of my mind.

  
Then Centricide happened. 

Then acceptance.

Don’t get me wrong, I still care for them and I never forgot about them. I still want the best for them. And the whole time, I had been kicking myself for never taking what we had further. It was just hugs and looks. A fledgling relationship and both of us too scared and/or stupid to act on our feelings.  
  
I had called them a capitalist pawn yet I was the one that exploited and manipulated them. And then I realised that when they were gone, only then I realised how much I needed them. I had taken them for granted all this time and just treated them like utter shit. Like a child. Separated like East and West Germany but instead a bad thing. 

  
But before me stood Post Left. They hadn’t noticed me as they were completely engrossed in the bread selection.  
They looked a lot more alive. Sure they were still scrawny and very short but their normally filthy hoodie had been washed a few times and they had a new bandana. The teal and black had replaced the old faded red and black but this time they weren’t trying to cover their face. It sat around their neck. They also had a skirt which was new but not surprising. They had escaped Nazi's watchful eyes and now were free to dress how they wished without judgement.

But I have two options. Say something to them or go on with my day and pretend this never happened. It’d be a lot easier to do the second. There is no difficulty in maintaining the status quo.  
I don’t have to worry about Post-Left rejecting me. Calling me a horrible murderous monster. And the thing is, they’d be right. I still remember all the times I was exactly like Nazi. Constantly giving them crap for being high out of their mind, berating them for not reading theory and many other things.  
I was completely dedicated to my cause and if they hadn’t left, the same thing would have happened that had happened in Makhnovtchina, in Spain and so on. Bam bam. My sweet anarkitty dead and I’d have been too deep into the revolution and Centricide to really truly realise what I'd done once it was too late.  
I constantly complain about the Rightist but I’d have been just as murderous and ruthless as Nazi and just as exploitative as Ancap.  
  


But then on the flip side, the last thing I want is to have them slip through my hands and out of my life forever. I want to say I at least tried. So I can say I gave it a shot.

**Post left  
**Ancom had died. Somewhat. But one thing that hadn’t changed was my love for bread. It was all freshly baked and honestly, most of it was probably the quality of Victorian white bread. Adulterated with bean flour, chalk, plaster of Paris which is all less expensive than proper flour and it seems heavier than a normal loaf of bread. 

“TOVARISH” I hear someone belt across the poorly stocked warehouse which had been converted into a supermarket.  
Commie barrels towards me and bear hugs me. There isn’t much I can do apart from just stand there and awkwardly hold my groceries while having every last rib in my body cracked.

“TOVARISH I MISSED YOU” he bellows. I don’t remember commie being this happy nor him acting like an overexcited puppy. He was always very cold and proper in his military uniform. No time for emotions or affection apart from once in a blue moon where he’d look after me when I was having a really bad trip.  
I’m just surprised that he even remembers me or even wants anything to do with me. I mean I betrayed him. I walked out. Left the Centricide. Destroyed Leftist Unity once and for all. Yet he came back, for better or for worse. 

Things had changed after I left. I had moved to Ancapistan. I couldn’t really afford it but I had nowhere else to go. Nazi wouldn’t have wanted me and would have probably killed me in my sleep. The Centrists didn’t really like me either as they still saw me as Ancom. And for some reason, Ancap was very happy to help me out. It was an offer I couldn’t afford to refuse.  
  
Ancom was weak and dependent but I was like a phoenix. A teal phoenix which rose from the flames after the death of Ancom. Rebirthed. I serve no one but myself and now I am finally free.   
I don’t need anyone anymore. I don’t need the protection of the state (ironic considering I take money from Ancap). Aside from the financial aspect, I don’t need anyone. Not Ancap. Not Commie and definitely not the fucking fasho.

He finally releases me.  
“Tovarish, I was just passing through and I saw you." he shifts restlessly from foot to foot. We just stand there in the bread aisle looking at each other. Neither of us speaking. The flow and the din of other shoppers doesn’t stop and we’re a little undisturbed eddy right in the middle of it all.

Honestly, I had thought that along with Ancom dying, all I felt for Commie would have died too. There can be no left unity if one of half it has died. I told myself so many times that I didn’t need him which is still true. That I didn’t care about him. That I didn’t want him in my life. Those are lies.

A freight train of emotions hits me. Emotions I had tried to suppress but now are all bubbling up again.  
All the times we had Molotoved banks. All the times we burnt cop cars. All the times he dragged me to boring meetings where we’d discuss theory but I’d actually have a good time since I was with him. He used to stagger into my room, pissed out of his mind and start rambling about American imperialism. Then I'd crack a few jokes and he'd flop on my bed next to me and we'd just talk about life.  
It all overwhelms me and tears spring to my eyes. I can’t help but beam at him. 

He grabs me again. This time it’s less awkward and he’s grinning like a madman. Seeing him smile is usually pretty scary but this time is different. I missed him so much and I fit perfectly against his chest and under his chin.  
“Tovarish, vhat are you doing in Ancapistan?” he says softly into my hair. My heart is going to burst out of my body and not just because he’s squeezing me again.   
“I could ask you the same.”  
“Finish your groceries and I can explain later.”  
  
  


We walk back to my apartment together. The roads are covered in potholes, broken street lamps light our way and you can hear the sound of cars passing in the distance, far away from the backstreets and my apartment. A far cry from the garish capitalist opulence of Ancap’s and Libertarian’s mansions.   
He clears his throat.  
  
“So vhat exactly are you doing in Ancapistan?”  
“I had nowhere else to go really and Ancap pays me to stay. What about you?”  
“Posadist asked me to pick up something for him since for some reason he can’t drive yet. But you must be kidding about the Ancap thing да? The Kulak would not part with even a single ruble of his hard-earned money.” he does air quotation marks around the hard-earned.  
Only then does he notice my dead serious expression and gives me a weird look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good with emotions, platonic or romantic relationships since I'm a neckbeard. Sorry but I will try my best. 
> 
> Also if any of my formatting, spelling, tenses or grammar is scuffed, please tell me. I havn't written anything in a very long time. 
> 
> Also I will probably have chapter two ready by tomorrow and chapter three very soon (which has Nazbol and Posadist in it). They just need some editing.


	2. A really bad idea - Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tankie and Post-Left get wasted and drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to disappoint but nazbol and posadist will be in chapter three but that will be out tomorrow or a day or two after. I just have to do some editing and sort out some convoluted plot stuff

This was probably a bad idea. Commie is sitting on my battered sofa next to me and is definitely a tiny bit tipsy. He asked me if I could crash at my place instead of paying the “Kulak”. In hindsight, that was probably not the best idea as we had already downed a few shots at his insistence. I’m wasted but he’s handling it pretty well.   
  


“Hahaha Post-Left, I have an idea.”  
“What Commie?” I giggle for no reason.  
“Vell we finished Centricide, now we can go and show Nazi and Ancap who’s boss.” He punches the air.   
“What about right unity? They'll be too strong” He laughs at what I said.  
“Something tells me that we don’t have to vorry about that. Nazi is very repressed and well Ancap…”  
“What about him?”  
“The Kulak is delusional. You cannot buy unity.”  
“No, no, Commie it’s not like that. He’s trying to keep me quiet. Like, keep your friends close but your enemies closer or whatever it means, it doesn't matter.”  
“Yeah vhatever,” he shuffles closer to me till he’s pressed against me and puts his head on my shoulder.  
“Imagine a world without capitalism.” he waves one of his arms (the one not pressed into me) in the air wildly and his eyes go to a distant place, far, far in his imagination.  
“Imagine that, it’d be a dream. The whole world communist. The international proletariat united...”  
“Communism is a spook. The Centricide was useless, it just created a new centre. Shouldn’t we just leave this in the past? I have a new life. I’m actually happy. I’m clean. No more meth or heroin or crack. Just pot, LSD and shrooms and only when I hang out with Ancap.”  
“Да but Anarkiddie does not something deep inside you want to bash the fash one last time? Plus this is not about Centricide”  
I give a slight nod. I guess he’s right. It benefits me to have Nazi out of the picture.  
“And I vant to get rid of the Kulak. Goodbye, porky. Bang bang.” He mimes a shooting action and we giggle like a bunch of idiots.

I wake up with a killer hangover on the couch but not alone. A dishevelled Commie asleep with his face pressed in the horizontal couch crack, his ushanka lying on the ground.  
We were up till ungodly hours just talking and Commie sang a few slurred renditions of the Internationale so I got around 4 hours of sleep. I let him sleep, we can drive in the dark if need be plus a tired driver is always a bad idea.  
  
I down an Ibuprofen without water. I have no time for water plus Ancaps’ tap water is usually weird smelling and/or an odd colour if we even have water. Sometimes they just don’t even pump it or bother repairing pipes.  
This is a perfect time to test what the water is like today. All I need is a bath, my neck and shoulders are killing me from sleeping weirdly and my head is pounding.  
My bathroom is small with a shower bath combo to save space, dimly lit, a cracked mirror and lino flooring which looks around 40 years old (so from the 80s) even though Ancapistan is definitely not that old.  
  
I look at myself in the mirror as the tub fills. It makes me dysphoric but at the same time I'm proud of myself for gaining a bit of weight. I look less like a malnourished junkie. I actually eat proper meals now. Not all at normal times but at least I'm eating.  
  
I fell asleep in the tub but at least I feel slightly better. I don’t know if i’m any cleaner but at least the water was only slightly discoloured and it didn’t smell which is always good. I’ve seen worse.  
  
I wander into the dining room. Commie has woken and has a map and a sketch pad spread out on my table and is frantically scribbling things.   
“Whatya doing Tankie?”  
“Planning, also you vere in there for two hours.” He grunts, not looking up from his work.  
“You’re already planning?”  
“Mhm alvays be prepared as they say.”

  
  
  


I don’t know when we’ll be coming back or how long we’ll be gone and Commie seems pretty serious about this. I have an old faded backpack and cram it full of shit. My keys, ibuprofen, photos, a book I dug out from a dumpster, a change of clothes and my bong. I open my box of memories, it’s mostly things which belonged to Ancom. Various knickknacks, pins, old pamphlets, an old flag and a CNT FAI cap. Something deep within me makes me stuff the cap deep in the pockets of my hoodie.  
  


Then out we march out of my apartment. Well, Commie marches. His knee length military coat flaps for every large stride he takes and I struggle to keep up.  
We had stupidly left tankie’s car outside the supermarket instead of driving to my apartment. By the time we get to his pickup truck, I'm out of breath. It’s old and battered and the back, where you load the stuff on it, has a tarpaulin stretched over it. I’m not good with cars so I have no idea what to call it.

“As the yanks say, get in loser ve are going shopping,” he says in his thick Russian accent. I clamber in the passenger seat. The floor is littered with sweet wrappers, Trotskyist pamphlets and other assorted garbage.   
I sit shotgun with my backpack on my lap but it slowly wanders onto the floor. And my face wanders into the window. I’m still worried that Commie is leading me to my death but my hangover and lack of sleep wins and I’m asleep by the time we’re out of Ancapistan.

I finally stir from my sleep disorientated and pop myself a pill (ibuprofen of course). I glance at Commie. His hands are gripping the steering wheel, eyes on the road. I start flicking through the radio stations.  
“Good morning tovarish.” I check the clock on the dash, it’s 3pm.   
“Haha, very funny Commie. Can we take a bathroom break?”  
“Да ve’ll stop at the next gas station. Plus I need to refuel.”  
  


Commie turns into the gas station at the side of the highway. We pull up at the pumps and Commie gets out to refuel.  
“Post-Left when you go, can you redistribute a bag of chips for me?”  
I leave to try to hunt down the nearest bathroom, not after stuffing some chips under my hoodie for Commie.  
  
“That was quick.” I’m back and Commie is still at the pump.  
“No gender-neutral bathrooms but at least I didn’t come back free handed.” I wave the bag of chips triumphantly.  
“Ah, that explains it tovarish. We can pull off onto the nearest farm road and so on and so on. The best toilet is the ground and so on and so on.”  
And that we do, not before Commie drives off without paying for the petrol.

“Commie?”  
“Mhm”  
“It’d have been a lot more fun if we had just siphoned petrol at a truck stop.”  
“Truckers are workers but vhen we steal from the gas station we are stealing from the petite bourgeoisie and American imperialist scum.”  
“Communism is a spook.”  
“Stupid anarkiddie” he rolls his eyes at me but it fools no one, he’s grinning.  
“Eyes on the road.”  
“Да да, vhatever, you are not my mother” and stuffs some chips in his mouth.  
  
  
  
  
  
We have a few more laughs which turn to a comfortable silence. It grows dark and I doze off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am also less scared about posting chapters now which is epic. Also if I missed any grammar errors, typos and so on, please tell me


	3. All the gangs here - Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Left means Nazbol and Posadist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something was funky with the last chapter and I ended up with two notes at the end (It didn't show up in preview). If this happens again, just ignore it. But chapter 4 will probably be around in 2ish days max
> 
> Also Naz is the Denglish (german english hybrid) speaking representation we didn't ask for but we needed.  
> Denglish gang

It had gotten dark as my battered pickup truck rolls down the gravel driveway and turn the key and pull it out of the ignition, stopping the car.

“Tankie are you sure this is the right place?” I can hear the concern in their voice. Fear that I’ve led them to their execution. A quiet isolated place in the woods to put a bullet through their skull. But they are wrong. They’re going to have to deal with way worse.   
“Да we are in the right place” I chuckle.  
“Um alright then”. Their voice goes up in pitch and they’re chewing on their bottom lip. It reminds me of Ancom’s voice and it hurts. It’s like I have Ancom sitting in my car but also an imposter who is somehow also not an imposter. Which makes no sense but it does.

We climb out and walk the 100metre trail through the trees to a gaping wound in the hill. It’s an old bunker sunken into the hill but with a bright red door which I painted myself.   
“We are here.” I thumbs up at Ancom in hopes that it might make them feel more at ease but my grin probably looks like I’m a hungry wolf choosing their next meal.   
I unlock the door and invite them in. A bare concrete tunnel leads downwards. Coming deep from the ground, I hear loud voices echoing up the tunnel.

“ДА I AGREE VE HAVE TO GET RID OF THE (((BOURGEOISIE))) BUT YOU ARE DELUSIONAL FOR WANTING NUKES. IF WE NUKE EVERYONE WE CAN’T BUILD AN ETHNOSTATE YOU CIA PUPPET. DO YOU WANT VHITE PEOPLE TO DIE? DO YOU?”  
“Home sweet home.” I thumbs up again awkwardly to try and put them at ease and lead them into the heart of the bunker until we come to a small kitchen.

**Post-Left  
**I’m really not so sure about this place. It’s a dingy kitchen lit by a singular bulb hanging on a string, cold war propaganda posters, a scrawled picture of a UFO and two strangers arguing. One looks like a smaller version of Commie. A 12-year-old child. And the other one looks like what happened after Sauron dipped the elves into his vat of nuclear juice. Antennae, a pair of pointy ears and a yellow glow.

  
“This is Nazbol. He is staying with me since me and the Nazi share custody. 50 50. We try our best to co-parent”. He gestures at the child.   
“What are you? Are you are he or a she” Nazbol crinkles his nose in disgust and Commie shoots him a quick glare.  
“They are they/them. Posadist uses neo-pronouns but you don’t find that weird.”  
“I guess that makes sense. But Posadist is a nuclear alien” he grumbles.

  
“And this is my sibling, Tovarish Posadist. Sorry, but xe is a bit of a freak.” he chuckles lightheartedly and Posadist grins.  
Posadist walks up to me, reaches out with xir clawed hand, touches me and then quickly slinks out of the room. Not before giving out an unnerving laugh of course.  
“As I said, I apologise on behalf of Posadist for everything in advance. Xe is just messing with you.”

  
We get no time to settle down. And my head still hurts.  
“Okay, Naz come and help me with the warhead. Post-Left I’ll need your help too.”  
Nazbol flips the bird at him and releases a flurry of racial and homophobic slurs. Tankie laughs and gives him a noogie. Well as good of a noogie as you can give someone when they’re wearing an ushanka.  
“I’m sorry. He learnt some bad habits from Nazi which I can’t seem to get rid of. That’s just how he shows love.”

**Commie  
**We lug the warhead back to the bunker. The feral beast has hidden in xir room and won’t help with xir own irresponsible online purchase. Usually, it’s various insects which xe buys. Xir room is full of terrariums but those are significantly lighter and I don’t have to drive all the way to Ancapistan to get them. 

  
Post-Left and Naz take one side and I take the other. I have no issue with it apart from the fact that they’re carrying it a lot lower. I can tell Naz is struggling. 

The warhead lurches precariously and I see Naz stagger but he remains standing.   
“СУКА БЛЯТЬ ИДИ НАХУИ. I TRIPPED ON A ROOT A FUCKING ROOT.”   
My heart fills with pride. He used the Russian swear words I taught him.  
Often I worry about Nazi’s influence on Naz. I’m worried that in the future, Naz will have to choose a side on the culture war. I don’t want him to be caught in the middle or be pressured to join Nazi’s side. I don’t want to fight against him either. I love that bastard and I worry about him a lot. I just want him to do his maths homework instead of involving himself in wars.  
I do want to get rid of Nazi but I also don’t want to destroy Naz. I don’t want him to lose a parent even though I despise Nazi. 

He calls the root a few ableist slurs and then we continue.

 **Post-Left  
**I settle into a spare room for the night. It would have taken too long to drive back to my apartment in Ancapistan. It’s not exactly a cosy forest cabin, to say the least. Sparse concrete walls, another solitary light bulb, a cot, an empty shelf and a rickety nightstand.

  
Thoughts about the concrete ceiling crushing me and burying me under feet of dirt, moss and concrete keep me awake for hours. They'd never be able to find my mangled body. Does anyone even know I'm here? Will they even look for me?  
And then when I actually sleep, it’s fitful.  
But at least the anxious thoughts and miserable sleep get interrupted by a loud knock and another insult being hurled at me. It's Nazbol knocking at my door.  
"HEY FUCKER IT’S BREAKFAST”. And kid turns around and marches away. His heavy footfalls echoing up and down the tunnel.

  
The first thing I do is sit up and sigh into my hands. I’ve gotten myself into a mess.  
But at least my hangover is finally gone. 

Commie is cooking up some fried eggs with slices of doctor’s sausage and dill on top. The smell permeates every corner of the small kitchen. Makes it feel more like a home than a prison. Posadist is excitedly messing around with Commies’s map and sketch pad. Xe’s drawing a dolphin and emitting a low but happy buzz. No idea where Nazbol is but he’s probably playing COD or something. Like father, like son I guess.

“Ehehehe what if we just nuke Ancapistan.”  
“Very bad idea” Tankie scrapes at the frying pan.  
Posadist’s antennae droop sadly  
“Ehehehe but it’d be very effective.” xe smiles mischievously.   
“Hahaha tovarish, remember what happened to the last Trot that had crazy ideas.” he lets out a menacing chuckle but there’s no bite behind his bark.  
“Tankie, you can’t say that!”  
Xe sulks off to look after his bugs.  
“Maybe instead of nukes we can assassinate them or invade or something.”  
“INVADE WHAT?”. The very excited Nazbol had arrived. He’s standing in the doorway, his eyes lit up with mischievous glee.  
“Shut up statist.” escapes my mouth. No one reacts so I assume no one heard it.  
“Ve are invading Ancapistan. And нет we vill not invade Poland. I know what you’re thinking, Naz.” Nazbol grumbles something under his breath.  
“Also, Post-Left never talk to me or my son like that ever again.” I freeze like a rabbit. This is when I finally get shot by the Auths. And I think he can see me panicking.  
“It was just a joke tovarish. Naz is a little beefsteak Nazi. Brown on the outside like a Nazi uniform but red inside. Are you not?”. He chuckles and glances over at Nazbol fondly.  
“Papa ich bin purple, not beefsteak,” he grumbles, his English heavily accented.

Commie serves us the fried egg, making sure to split it up evenly.  
“Equally distributed as everything should be and for lunch, we eat the rich.” He chuckles.  
Posadist has returned but with a stick insect sitting in xir radioactive hair. And Nazbol and Tankie have started arguing over the importance of theory.  
“Hrm Post-Left?”  
“Yes, what is it?”. I sigh.  
Posadist who was sitting opposite to me, leans over the table.  
“Say hi to Svetlana.” Svetlana is about the length of my hand with a body constructed out of pale green holly leaves or maybe a cactus. But she’s covered in spines, that’s for sure.  
“Why do you have bugs?”  
“Hehehe if I expose them to the waste long enough, maybe they’ll grow something interesting. Also, bugs get me. Everyones scared of them and they have antennae”  
“I guess fair enough.”  
“I am planning a nuclear weapon. Not like a nuke since that’s not very portable. I can show you later. I am in the testing stage already.” Xe grins deviously andCommie and Nazbol are too engrossed in their debate to hear anything Posadist just said.

I don’t like where this is heading.


	4. Sharing is caring - Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished majority of the fic which is a victory royale moment so I will be pumping those out like bam bam bam and I have plenty of time since no uni thanks to corona

All of us are sitting at the dining table. Our map laid out and Tankie is taking notes. Posadist is fidgeting excessively and Nazbol is rocking with his chair.  
“So do we all do it as a group? Everything is better when we do it collectively да? Also, Naz stop it, you will hurt yourself.”   
“Ehehehe great idea but what if you and Naz go and deal with Ancap and me and Post-Left deal with Nazi.” The rocking stops.  
“Нет.”   
“What Naz?” asks Tankie.  
“Dad, we are not killing my dad. Not happening.”  
Emotions flicker across Tankie’s face like the shadows on the cave wall. A projection of what is going on in his mind.   
“Okay. We leave Nazi alone for Naz’s sake. Alright?” he implores the rest of us.  
We slowly cook up a plan. Commie still has one of the tanks somewhere in the pine trees. We renovate it like the Killdozer, we barricade ourselves up in there. We drive to Ancapistan and we finish off Ancap and some other Lib Rights if they get in the way. Or maybe just Posadist and Tankie drive the tank. Maybe me and Nazbol can sneak in or get invited over. This plan probably won’t work but we’ll figure it out and it was the only thing we could all agree on as a collective.

  
  
But Nazi still has to go. It's in my own self-interest.

  
  
Posadist leads me into the heart of xir bunker. I can’t tell what time it is. The sun never shines in a bunker. Curling corridors and stairs which never seem to stop, they lead me deeper and deeper into the earth's hungry maw. Until xe comes to a door. It’s a brand new aluminium door with a keypad. I can’t help but look over xir shoulder. Not because I’m nosy but because I was just following xem down a damn corridor.  
Xe hisses at me like a cat.  
“Hey, Post-Left don’t look!”  
“Sorry” I mumble and back off.

The door swings open. It opens into a room across two levels. We’re on the second level, it consists of a 5m wide catwalk running along the walls. Those walls are also lined with dark grey lockers. I walk over to the edge and look over the railing. Underneath us are various barrels, some of them leaking  
“Is that radioactive splooge on the ground?”  
“Yes. Ehehe I forgot you needed a hazmat suit. Ehehe you’ll be fine.”  
“Posadist, can you make this quick?” I start to chew on my lip again. I don't want cancer. No thank you.  
“Sure. No worries.”   
Posadist unlocks one of the lockers and pulls out a Supersoaker though parts of it are plated or have been replaced with metal. Xe admires it proudly as if it were a prize-winning lamb at an agricultural show, something they'd raised with much love from the moment it was thought into existence.  
“Ta-dah.” xe does jazz hands with their free clawed hand.  
I raise an eyebrow.  
“A Supersoaker?”  
“Ehehe no I just used it for housing. You fill it with nuclear "splooge" where the water is meant to go and it directs gamma rays, like it focuses them. Just like the Death Star. I don’t know if it’s effective yet but we shall see.”  
Xe quickly locks it up again, emitting a happy buzz.

  
Me and Nazbol start working on the tank that day. Well, Posadist is too but xir messing around with concrete for it, flitting around me and Naz like a little butterfuly as we clean. With their measuring tape out and measuring anything they possibly could in order to make sure that the concrete would fit it like a glove. I forgot the type of tank but it was a “T” something with a number following it. Something from the Soviet Union without doubt.  
It’s massive compared to me and Nazbol (even Tankie). It’s treads sunken deep into the ground and with weeds anchoring it into the ground and an old bird's nest. The rest is covered in dirt, moss and lichen and other assorted greenery.   
  
  
  


After a week of staying at the bunker, I feel like a living corpse. I haven't had a proper night of sleep. I get around 5 hours and none of those are good hours since It's shallow interrupted sleep. I end up crashing on the old leather couch in the communal room sometimes. The lounge is a lot nicer than the kitchen. A slightly stained shag rug, a very large Fourth International flag, the couch and the TV which either has the news blaring on repeat during the day or Nazbol playing COD and yelling down his mic.  
But I've noticed that the noise has actually been helping me sleep. I think it’s because I feel less alone or acts as white noise so it takes my mind off the concrete ceiling.   
Tankie and Posadist have asked me a few times if I’m alright. I always say I'm fine but they know I'm lying. 

We’ve been working on the tank everyday together but right now Naz is standing there with a bucket of dirty water, watching me remove some poison Ivy.  
“I’ve decided you’re alright.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Do you want to play COD with me when we’re done?”  
“Yeah sure why not.”

I go outside for a breath of fresh air since I need a break from COD. I check my phone (no reception in a bunker). 4 missed calls from Ancap. I call him back.  
"Ah finally Post-Left. Sooo good to see you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. You have rent to pay.” his smug voice jabs at my nerves.   
“Uh yea sorry about that i’ll do that soon.” I try to placate him with a lie.  
“ANARKIDDIE COME PLAY COD VITH ME” yells Nazbol from down the tunnel.   
“C’mon tell me where you are. Spit it out. Oh dear, was that Commie I heard?” I hear him pacing. I also hear Naz pacing up the tunnel and he’s about to say something else but I put my finger over my mouth.  
“Don’t worry about it Ancap” I kick a rock on the ground.  
“Something tells me that you won’t pay the rent and that something would probably violate my NAP.”  
“I’ll pay it Ancap, don’t worry.”  
“C’mon Post-Left, how hard can it be to pay your rent. I have at least 5 mortgages I have to pay and I always do it on time. Do it for me. I’m your best friend. Remember that time I-.” I know what’s coming. He’s going to remind me of the time he evicted me and sold all my belongings since I couldn't pay him back.  
“Fine Ancap, I’ll pay the fucking rent. You happy?”   
“Haha I am very happy. Well I have to go now. I have some business to tend to, my Coca Cola workers are trying to unionise. Ciao” he laughs mirthfully and then hangs up.   
Me and Naz walk back to the lounge area.  
“Dad told me that the Kulak pays you to stay in Ancapistan? Vhy is he charging you rent?”  
“Well, Ancapistan is not its own state. It’s still under the jurisdiction of the United States government so he gives me money and since it's a gift, it becomes a tax write-off or tax-free or something, I don't know how it works. And then I pay it back to him under the table or something. I don’t know how it works but he really just doesn’t want to pay taxes.”  
“Well are you going to pay the Kulak back?”  
“Of course not. I have no money.”  
“But he gives you money?”  
“Most of it goes to food and things like that. Living in Ancapistan is unaffordable.”  
“The Kulak is a month away from being an extra multimillionaire and you are a month away from being homeless.” his purple eyes filling with a familiar revolutionary flame.  
“Pretty much.” I sigh defeatedly.  
“It vill all be okay once ve free the cripplingly poor.''   
I must look extra exhausted and beaten since he gives me a hug. I just stand there and stare into the distance, my eyes focusing on nothing in particular. I blink away a few tears, I don't want him to see me cry. I feel ashamed and I don't particularly know why. 

**Commie**  
“Tankie?” I hear Anarkiddie say through my door.  
I stir from my sleep and then check my alarm clock on my bedside table. 01:14.   
“Vhat is it?” I grumble.  
“Um, this is going to sound really stupid but I can’t sleep. My brain is freaking out since I'm scared the bunker will collapse and I’ll be crushed and die and that they’ll never find my body. And I just need someone’s breathing there or something to calm me down. Is it alright if I sleep on your floor?” their voice shaking. The thought rushes through my head that I should go and hug them but it disappears soon as sleep claims me.  
  
I also don’t remember saying yes but I must have since when my 06.00 alarm goes off, I see Anarkiddie curled up on the concrete floor in a pile of blankets. It makes me wince. Concrete apart from being very uncomfy is also extremely cold. It chills your body to the core and seeps into your bones. I know from experience, I served in the military a long time ago. But I guess on the plus side, a concrete floor is significantly nicer than the trenches.  
Before I leave, I bend over and pick them up bridal style. It’s not very hard since they're still pretty scrawny and thin and I place them on my bed. It is the people’s bed anyway and maybe then they’ll get some sleep.  
A quick puff from my inhaler and then I go for my run.  
  
  


Some people meditate or cross-stitch but I spend the rest of the day working on my model space shuttles, meticulously painting and gluing together the parts. I have very large hands compared to Anarkiddie for example but I still manage to do a very good job. I enter a peaceful state, all my revolutionary anger subsiding temporarily and my tension ebbing. A way more productive day then arguing on /leftypol/ about counter-revolutionaries.  
  
  


I’m about to head to bed and Anarkiddie corners me.  
“Tankie can you do me a favour?”  
“Vhat is it Anarkiddie?”  
“Yknow last night?”  
“Yea vhat about it?”  
“Well I slept really well. Is it possible we could move my cot there please? Pretty pretty please?”  
“Alright Anarkiddie but this does not mean my room is your room.” I say gruffly. I try to keep a straight face.   
“Da da, whatever Tankie, I thought you were a Communist. Sharing is caring.” they smile at me and I can’t help but return it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda feel like the chapter falls a bit flat but it has necessary shit in it and it's gonna get whole lot more exciting soon. Also I feel bad for being mean to Ancap. Never thought i'd love an Ancap. Wack


	5. Cool weapons montage - Chapter Five

Me and Naz are playing COD and Anarkiddie is asleep on the couch with their head on my lap.  
They were still tired and we were mid game so they just laid down on the couch and put their head in my lap. Otherwise there would have been no space for them. So an immovable object vs an unstoppable force. Not that I'm complaining of course. I'm also just very grateful they feel comfortable with me after everything that went on with Ancom. If Anarkiddie hated me, I’d understand. But then I guess they're not Ancom anymore and things have changed. I don’t know.  
"Papa, if they're a man or a woman then that might be very degenerate. Because then it's either gay or premarital."  
"Vell they are neither. Give it a rest and leave them alone."

Posadist approaches us and stands in front of the TV.  
"Ehehe maybe we should really try nuking Ancapistan."  
"Vhat about the cripplingly poor. Ve cannot unite the international proletariat if they are all dead." I run my fingers through Anarkiddie's curly hair absentmindedly with one hand.  
"I think Posadist might actually be right. Vhat if the crippling poor are black."  
"Please someone vork with me here. We can’t nuke Ancapistan. So many people are white in Ancapistan, even Ancap."  
"Then why are we doing this if he's white. I don't vant to commit vhite genocide." Naz puts his controller down and stands with his arms crossed, I'd have done the same but I have Post-Left across my legs.   
"I thought you hated the Kulak."  
"Vell I do but he's also vhite."  
"Ehehe but Naz, think of all the black people you'd kill and put out of jobs. We have to deal with Ancap plus it's only one white person. That's not genocide."  
"Potayto potahto" he grumbles.

  
  
Tankie finds me later. He looks shifting from foot to foot again.  
“Anarkiddie, vould you like to go on a jog with me.”  
“Umm sure why not.”  
I didn’t pack enough clothes let alone clothes for actual exercise so Tankie gives me a t-shirt, it's the people's t-shirt after all anyway. It’s bright red and says “CCCP” on the front in white lettering. It hangs off my slender frame like a potato sack. Combine that with my black shirt, I become an instant fashion icon.  
  
I greatly underestimated how far Tankie runs. Since the bunker is in the middle of nowhere, we spend 10 minutes running across the side of the single lane highway which the driveway intersects with. I start to wheeze. We pass cows and even more pine trees. And then we turn into a gravel rural road which we continue to run along. I start to lag behind and my side starts to ache.  
“Tankie can we take a break?”  
He stops and I jog up to meet him, puffing and I sit down on the grass on the side of the road.  
“Tovarish we’re not even half done. Get up.” he has a teasing smile which reaches to his eyes.  
“Tankie I can’t.” I’m still wheezing.  
  
He stands over me and reaches his hand out. I grab it and he pulls me up. He just ends up doing it too fast, either underestimating his own strength or overestimating my weight and I careen into him. He stabilises me, his hand on my back. We make eye contact, not saying anything but he’s still grinning at me. He looks at my lips and then sheepishly looks away.  
“Vell Anarkiddie I think we should walk back. Since I doubt you can finish the run.” and then he removes his hand.  
“Asshole.” he just smiles and laughs.  
  
  
“I have joke.” he’s kicking pieces of gravel on the road.  
“Sure, hit it.”  
“Vhat do you call a communist sniper.”  
“What?”  
“A marxman.”  
“Not funny. Try again.” I give him a light shove and he laughs.  
“Vhat do you get vhen you lock two Trotskyists in a room?”  
“What?”  
“Three splinter parties.”  
“That one was even worse.”  
“Have you got a better one Anarkiddie?” he says playfully.  
“Shut up.”  
  
  
  


Later we all watch as the concrete housing that Posadist made for us is lowered onto the tank. We all cheer apart from Tankie who looks on with his arms crossed, unsure and critical.  
I mean it is his tank and it’s probably not coming back fully functional.  
Posadist is beaming and I go and give xem a hug.  
“Good work Posadist.”  
“Блядь that is epic. Now I wish I wasn’t going with Post-Left, I’ve always wanted to ride in a panzer.” Naz looks up at the tank with wonder. I mean it is an impressive tank. Thick and dark concrete slabs cover the majority of the hull, a gun turret and a badly painted hammer and sickle in red runny paint.  
“Maybe when you’re older but right now you are too short to load ammunition.” Tankie smiles at him with pride.  
“We should name it.” I pipe in.  
“Ve should name it Killdozer.”  
“Ehehe that’s not very original Naz.” giggles Posadist.  
“Stalin.” suggests Tankie, Naz agrees with him but Posadist pales a bit.  
“Ehehe NO NOT HAPPENING.”  
Naz starts bickering with Posadist, their voices slowly rising in volume and Posadist is humming agitatedly.  
“QUIET.” bellows Tankie sternly, his face stony. Everyone turns to look at him.  
“Ve vill sort this out some other day. Ve von’t achieve anything by arguing.”  
“Maybe we can each choose a name but non-political and then vote on it?” suggests Posadist.  
“Good idea Posadist. But now I have to do something.” he marches off into the bunker.  
  
  
 **Commie**  
There's one thing I have to remember to do. I walk to our armoury. Only me and Posadist have keys and for obvious reasons. I swing the heavy door open and secured to the wall are various firearms and crates of ammunition sitting on the floor. I remove my AK 47 from the wall, as Kalashnikov said, it was made to protect the motherland and it will serve me well. I do miss using it and I’m worried I might be out of practice. I also grab three black hand guns (the MP-443 Grach to be specific). That should be good enough. **  
****  
**I gather Anarkiddie and Naz and lead them out of the bunker. I hand one of them to Anarkiddie and the rest to Naz. I heard that Posadist might give Anarkiddie xir weird Supersoaker so they’ll be fine with only one handgun.  
We all take pot shots at various tin cans and glass bottles arranged on various crates, well me and Naz are. My aim is still good, Anarkiddies not so much. They haven't hit anything and they’ve used up the magazine.  
“Um Tankie, I confess i’ve never shot a gun. What do I do.”  
“Remove the magazine, now pull on the slider. Inspect the chamber to see if it’s clear.” They follow my instructions.  
“Now what Tankie?”  
I take their gun from them to demonstrate.  
“Vell you get the magazine, make sure the rounds are sitting properly, shove in there, pull the slide and then let it go.” They watch me carefully. Then remove the magazine and then hand it back to them.  
“Now you try tovarish.”  
They pick it up with their left hand, follow my instructions and then switch the handgun to their right hand.  
“Нет, you have to do it with your right hand. Vhat if you are in gun fight? You vill be wasting time. You do not vant to die.”  
“I have already died before.”  
“You are like cockroach, unkillable and I mean that in a good way.” I smile at them.  
“Um Tankie do you wanna smoke a blunt after this? Together?” they look at me with hopeful eyes.  
“Нет, I am straight edge but ve can go for another jog if you want to?.”  
“You drink.” They laugh and smile at my coyly.  
“Блядь I completely forgot about that.”  
“Dumbass.”  
  
  
**  
**I take a shot while reading theory. I end up taking a couple more until I'm wasted but I only realise until it’s too late.  
Usually I’d go to bed at 22.00 but that always changes when I drink, I am thoroughly pissed and I stagger back in my room, take my pants and shirt off and fling myself into the nearest bed.  
  
It’s 06.00am and my alarm clock is going off. I try and smack it to turn it off but it’s not there. It’s just air. And then it dawns on me.  
Anarkiddie has no bedside table.  
When we moved their cot, we never moved their bedside table with them.  
“FUCK! I’M REALLY SORRY ANARKIDDIE.”  
“Shut up Tankie, I’m trying to sleep.” they grumble.  
They’re nestled into my back, there’s not much space in these cots. If I were a religious man, I’d have thanked Lenin and Assad for watching over me and making sure I never sleep naked otherwise I’d have instantly purged myself in shame.  
  
I get up and start getting dressed for my run.  
“You have a nice ass Tankie” I hear Anarkiddie mumble, half asleep.  
Yea I can’t handle this anymore. This is too much for my small brain.  
  
Puff puff with my inhaler and then I go for an extra long run. By the time I get back to my room, Anarkiddie is gone. I make sure that Naz is actually doing his correspondence work. He is currently learning Spanish which me and Nazi both wholeheartedly approve of but for very different reasons. Then I settle down and start rereading _Das Kapital_ for the umpteenth time. Nothing takes my mind off things like linen.  
  
 **  
Post-Left  
** I’ve decided that there is no choice for me but to kill Nazi. We can’t have fash running around plus what if he comes to reinforce Ancap? Plus he hates me so It's either me or him. I’ll disappear and then there’s not much the others can do to stop me. Also I’ve decided after what happened this morning, I’ve had enough of us pussy footing and dancing around each other. Plus what if I don’t come back alive?  
I knock on his door (even though I do sleep in there).  
“I am busy.”  
I ignore him and open the door anyway. He’s rearranging his impressive theory collection. I walk up to him and he turns to look at me.  
“Tovarish please don’t be mad at me about the stuff this morning? Please?” he looks at me sheepishly.  
I step forward, grabbing the lapels of his coat and I kiss him. On my tippy toes of course, because he towers of me. But he just looks at me dumbly.  
“Um did you come to borrow my copy of _Das_ _Kapital_ , since I am currently reading it so you will have to vait.” he says after a moment of silence. I still haven't let go of his lapels.  
I can see the moment it clicks in his brain. He laughs and it’s probably one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard.  
“I am so stupid” and he he pulls me towards him, one arm around my waist and the other hand on the back of my head and kisses me back tenderly and then once again but more passionately.  
“You are, Tankie.”  
  
  
  
  
Kissing led to making out and that led to other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I don't know what to name the tank
> 
> This is the last peaceful chapter  
> Shits gonna get wild 
> 
> :)


	6. Sayonara Nazi - Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, Nazi calls Post-Left a certain slur which starts with “q”. If you’re not comfy with that then there is a chapter summary for you at the bottom so you don’t have to miss anything :)
> 
> In the amount of chapters department, the fic is half way done. But some of the other fics are really long tho lmao

Dealing with Nazi was easy. It was just like how animals which aren’t surrounded by predators lose their natural defences. Nazi had been living the high life surrounded by only other fascists. Having the time of his life with Ecofacist and Homo-nationalism who had moved in. Well, I was going to end that for once and for all.   
But it also didn’t help either that most Nazis are weak and pathetic kids who are looking for a community, purpose in life and a sense of power and control in a world of capitalist alienation where they have no power. Or their dad didn’t love them enough. But those are all spooks.

He was still living in the old Centricide house. Thanks to Ancom’s memories I knew the house like the back of my hand. And I clambered in through the window of what used to be my old bedroom. I had done this many times before. My old pride flags had been replaced with pride flags of another sort. Both white pride and gay pride of course. All my old belongings were gone. Well, they weren’t my belongings. They were Ancom’s and Ancom was pretty dead.   
Well, my old makeup was still sitting on my dresser along with a lot of other makeup. Various wigs sit on their stands on that very cramped dresser and a glittery silver dress was lays on the unmade bed.

I heard footsteps clacking on the beautiful wooden floors of the hallway.  
“Eco-Fascist is that you? I need someone to play COD with me. I don’t want to play by myself.”  
I fling myself under the bed. It’s horrible and dusty and I pull up my teal bandana. There’s a small stack of magazines with buff men in various states of undress on the covers, a cardboard box filled with personal items that I really don’t want to look at and a small lockbox around the length of my forearm.  
Nazi flings the door open, quickly scans what appears to be an empty room and then leaves.  
“ECO-FASCIST, COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE. THE GRINDR BUMBOY IS OUT GETTING FUCKED UP THE ASS AND THE JEWISH CUCK HAS MY FUCKING KID. HOW AM I MEANT TO SECURE A FUTURE FOR MY ARYAN CHILD WHEN THE DEGENERATE FILLS HIS HEAD WITH CULTURAL BOLSHEVISM. WELL ANYWAY, I’M GOING TO GET SEVERE COD WITHDRAWALS.”    
“Please, Eco-Fascist? I don’t want to play by myself?” 

I hear a loud thump. And this is probably where Nazbol learnt to constantly yell. It’s quiet for a second and then it starts up again.  
“GOTT VERDAMMT DU VERFLUCHTE KOMMODE ICH ERWÜRGE DICH.”  
I hear him stomping up the stairs and then it goes all quiet. 

  
  
With Nazi gone, I shuffle further underneath the bed and grab the lockbox. I’m surprised the Homonationalist didn’t clear it out and luckily I still have the keys. Jingle jangle and it’s open. Inside sits a beautiful Peacemaker. The name is ironic as it’s a fully loaded revolver. I spin the barrel just to be sure. Each chamber has a bullet. I still remember when I bought it. Tankie had insisted I get a gun, said some crap about “under no pretext” and then dragged me to a gun store and made me choose something but I never used it. The bat never needs reloading and I was too lazy to practice.    
I was hoping it was still there otherwise I’d be unarmed and I’d have to slip some cyanide or something in Nazi’s Sahne Torte like the OG Nazi. I don’t even have cyanide but I bet you that Eco-fascism keeps the garden shed well stocked with stuff to keep out “foreign invaders” from his lettuce patch.

I creep up the stairs like a ghost. Ancom knew every inch of these stairs since they’d always sneak around the place to steal other people’s food when they got the munchies in the middle of the night. I also hear faint music.  
At the top of the stairs, it opens up into a room with a beautiful pale wood floor and brightly lit with natural light. A piece of modern art hangs vandalised and on an awkward angle.   
Large glass windows broken up with sliding doors lead to a balcony.  
They’re wide open. I can see Nazi on the balcony with a paintbrush in hand standing in front of an easel enjoying his Italian opera music which luckily for me, he chooses to blast at full volume. He’s looking out over what used to be Ancap’s serene garden. But now it was Nazi’s own little serene ethnostate made up of just him and the 3 other fascists (if you count Naz). It gives off the same vibes as Schindler's List but everything is peaceful and it’s a lovely sunny morning. It’s like we’re in the eye of the storm right before a massive hurricane is going to hit.

I walk up behind him, making sure I don’t make a single noise on the tiles. I whip out my Peacemaker and put it at the back of his head, the barrel in his hair.   
He stiffens up and attempts to turn around.   
“Do not turn around.” I try and channel Tankie’s commanding voice to the best of my ability.  
“You fucking degenerate.” He spits at me, his fists balled.   
“Hey Nazi I-”   
“White identitarian.”   
“Well white identitarian, I won’t kill you providing that you give me some dirt on Ancap.” I lie in hopes that he tells me something. He’s not coming out of this alive no matter what he says. That would not please my ego.    
“I have nothing and if I did, I wouldn’t fucking give it.” he snarls at me. I can see veins in his throat throbbing, the knuckles around his paintbrush going white.    
“Spit it out.”   
“Ancap won't let me visit him at his mansion since I started printing money.”    
“Sure but I don’t believe you. You must know something.”   
“Ancom, you couldn’t even kill me. You’ve wanted to put a bullet through my brains for years and now that you finally can, you’re too much of a weak little degenerate queer to do it. Pathetic. Do yourself a favour and turn the gun on yourself” his voice turns back to his usual sinister drawl but I don’t let it put me at ease. I can hear the blood in my ears and my hand is jittering.    
He tries to twist around with his painted brush aimed for my jugular or my eyes.   
“SJW DEGENERATE CUCK”    
  
I pull the trigger.    
Blood splatters everywhere. On me, on the easel and on the balcony railing. Put down like the conservative (not that I had any love for him either. He was just like Nazi).   
He laughs, blood pooling out of his forehead. I don’t think he’s noticed all the blood. We’re both standing there in shock, glued to the ground.    
“You’ll never be able to kill me.” he gives me a final wide grin.

  
  
  
And then he breathes his last breath and the twink goes limp on the tiles.    
  


  
  
And the Ancom deep within me rejoiced. I did it for them.    
I did it for myself.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various other fascists have moved into the Centricide house with Nazi but the house is quiet. Post-Left sneaks inside of the house via their old room's window. Underneath the bed they find their old gun which they got at Tankie's insistence but never actually used.
> 
> They try and interrogate Nazi. They say they won't kill him if he gives them information (which is a lie). He doesn't have anything. He tries to defend himself/attack Post-Left. He gets shot.


	7. Nearly threw hands with a 13 year old - Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still managed to get this out even though I’ve been hitting doomer mode which is epic.
> 
> I'd have written more but some motherfucker on reddit said some spooky ass shit which I didn't ask for. A whole essay on their religious journey full of baseless assertions when I didn't even mention religion or anything remotely related to it
> 
> Vibe killed 10/10

Tankie pulls me aside into an unfurnished room in the bunker.  
“Anarkiddie, we all know what happened to the Nazi. Just don’t tell Naz, please? I don’t want to upset him. I know he loves his dad. Well both of them. Well, he probably already knows since he’s a clever kid but please please please don’t tell him.” He implores, holding my arm.   
“I can do that Tankie”. I give him a reassuring smile at him. And he gives me a kiss.  
“Thank you.”

I walk into the communal living space and hell breaks loose.  
Well, Naz breaks loose. He throws down his controller and he’s about to throw some fucking hands but I can tell his cheeks are glistening. Posadism just looks shocked.  
“YOU FUCKING MURDERER. YOU KILLED MY DAD. YOU CLASS TRAITOR YOU JEWISH REVISIONIST. I WILL GAS YOU AND THROW YOUR BODY IN AN UNMARKED MASS GRAVE AND PISS ON IT AND YOU, DAD LET IT ALL HAPPEN. YOU LET THIS DEGENERATE LIVE IN OUR HOUSE AND IN YOUR BED. THE ANARKIDDIE HAS ROTTED YOUR BRAIN AND NOW I’VE LOST TWO FUCKING DADS.”  
He lunges at Tankie but Posadism holds him back. Tankie, usually the poster child of stoicism, is about to cry. Something breaks inside of me. But not just because Tankie is upset though. 

**Posadism  
** It was pretty late. Well not for me. I don’t need sleep anymore.   
A downside with living in a bunker is that all noises echo up and down the corridor. Usually, it's the clicking of my Geiger counter but this time it’s the sound of crying. Amplified to sound somewhat hellish. I know my brother can’t hear Naz. Naz, being a rebellious teen wanted his room far away from everyone else so I had to convert some storeroom into a bedroom for him. Not that that’s hard. 

I quickly rap on the door.  
“FUCK OFF” he says in between sobs.  
“It’s me, Posadist.”  
“Alright, you can.” he grumbles.

  
I open the door and there in front of me is Naz curled up in a fetal position on his cot. His ushanka lying on the floor, hugging a picture of him and Nazi at book-burning event. He sits up. His face is wet and the whites of his eyes are red.  
I sit next to him and wrap him in a hug. Usually, he’d shake me off or something but instead, he just keeps weeping into my shoulder. His face slightly lit by my glow.  
“I’ve lost two dads today, uncle. First Nazi and then Tankie. This was all his idea.”  
“Kiddo, it was my idea to split up and it was Post-Left who delivered the shot. Your dad didn’t do anything. He might have suggested it while drunk to Post-Left but that was it. But Post-Left listens to no one but themselves. When Tankie said we weren't going to kill Nazi, he meant it. He hates Nazi but he loves you even more. I love you Naz and so does your dad." I mindlessly ramble.  
"Naz do you want me to show you my bug collection?”  
He keeps blubbering into my shoulder.  
  
I drag him into my room, he just stands there in my arms. He’s bawling his eyes out, his face in my chest.  
“That’s Leon my Madagascan Hissing Cockroach, Svetlana my Giant Prickly Stick Insect, Santino and Amancio my Orchid Mantises.”  
By the time I’ve finished listing all their names and species, it’s late and I manage to force him to go to bed. At least he’s not asking for the bottle yet. Tankie drinks instead of dealing with his issues and emotions and I’m not gonna let Naz follow his example.

  
  
**Commie** **  
** I lay in my bed, the whole room deadly quiet. The silence crushes me, the concrete walls closing in on me ready to end me. Ready to collapse on me just like how I’m ready to collapse myself.  
I don’t miss Nazi. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m not mad at Anarkiddie. Naz. My heart is starting to speed up. I can feel every heartbeat in my body, amplified by the fact that I’m lying on my back and looking at the miserable grey concrete ceiling. Naz.  
  
  
Keep it together Tankie.  
You are strong leader.  
Keep it together.  
  
  
The group had splintered. My son probably hates me now. Ancap is aware now that he might be at risk. Naz probably also hates Anarkiddie now. The whole plan has crumbled now that Naz has effectively pulled out by not being able to cooperate. Which is justified.  
  
Anarkiddie had gone for a walk. I know they don’t fully know the area and that it’s dark but they’re a lot more capable than they seem. They can find their way home.  
Just when I start drifting off, I feel them slip under the blankets next to me and I instinctively put my arm around them. And then I’m wide awake again.  
  
  
  
**Post-Left** **  
** I had told them I had gone for a walk. That was a lie. Well, I did walk but it was around 50metres off the path into the pine trees. Their aroma cocooning me. Usually the pine trees were familiar and welcoming during the day, a respite from being stuck in a bunker without natural light and without a natural breeze. But at night and in this state of mind, they weren’t welcoming and they didn’t want me there.  
But I sat down on the pine needles anyway and just stared into the distance like a zombie.  
Tears start to leak out of my face but I’m not crying for Nazi. I’m crying for Naz. I was a fucking moron.  
  
It pleased my ego and therefore I did it without regret.  
But I never thought it through. My hatred and fear of Nazi blinded anything in my brain that would have thought about the consequences. My mortal enemy.  
I don’t know if what I did was right or wrong. Those are both spooks. It doesn’t matter if it was right or wrong since it happened anyway. And now Naz hates me.  
  
  
I just bawl harder. **  
** **  
**  
I sneak back into the bunker making sure that I don’t wake anyone from the echoing footsteps. I clamber into Tankie’s cot. He wraps his arm around me and I cosy into the cot as good as I can. I still feel raw.  
I can sense his breathing and it’s rapid. But not panic attack rapid though.  
“Anarkiddie?” his voice quivering.  
“Yea?”  
“Vhat are ve going to do now?”  
“I don’t know Tankie.”  
We both go silent, both of us are wide awake and just laying there wallowing in our thoughts. We’re both on the verge of tears just waiting for who’s going to be the first to cry.  
  
  
  
**Ancap** **  
** I got the call when I was walking across the tarmac to my private plane. I didn’t bother looking at the caller and I jammed it in between my ear and shoulder and walked up the stairs onto the plane.  
“Hello, this is Ancap, on what business are you calling me on?”  
Hoppean’s voice crept down the line.  
“Nazi’s dead.”  
I can’t help but laugh.  
“Tell him that he won’t be able to guilt me into letting him come over again.”  
“He’s dead.” Hoppean’s voice was flat.  
“Uh what. Hang on a second, I’ll have to call you later.” I hang up and get comfy in a large white leather seat and crack open my laptop. I open Tor and Chrome. One for my emails and the other one for the irresponsible online purchases.  
I then call Libertarian. I can’t help but smile when I hear his voice. I would probably ask him to marry me if I were a statist.  
“Hey, babe? You hear about Nazi?”  
“Yea I just got a call from Hoppean about it.”  
I take off with the sounds of Libertarian in my ear, knowing that I'll be home in Ancapistan soon. But then he has to go and I hang up. I get to work, by that I mean I walk to the bathroom and do a line.  
  
  
First thing I do after that is order enough cocaine to last me for the next two weeks, check the stocks and then order a bazooka. Just because. It’ll take a bloody long time to turn up though as they’ll have to ship each individual piece from Europe.  
  
  
The high kicks in and then I call Hoppean again.  
“So Hoppean, what’s the cause of death and where did it happen?”  
“Shot dead in the Centricide house. Murder or suicide.” his crackhead cockroach voice burrows into my ears.  
“What the fuck. I’ll never be able to sell the house now.” my eyebrow starts twitching and I try to calm it. First, a trade war concerning oil and now this crap.  
“Well thank you for helping me. I can deal with this from here.” I drawl and try my best to act cocky but in reality, I am ready to wring someone’s neck. I nearly hang up until he speaks up again.  
“Did you kill him, Ancap.”  
“What no! I’d never do that. He’s one of my best customers. I’m just a bit peeved that he died in my house.”  
“I’d hope that’s the case.”  
“We all know how much Nazis love to commit suicide, yknow Hitler he killed himself If I remember correctly. Or maybe it was the Leftists or something.”  
“Well if I were you, I'd watch your back.”  
“Is that a threat Hoppean?”  
“No.”  
“Let’s hope it stays that way. Well, I have some very important business I have to attend to. Good bye.”  
  
  
I don’t get a seconds rest as I see Minarchist on the caller id. I sigh and pick it up.  
“This is this about Nazi? Because if so, don’t bother. I already know he’s dead.”  
“Hi Ancap, was just calling you to ask if you had something to do with this.”  
"I do not."  
“You’ve killed people for less.”  
“That didn’t count since it was the hit men not me and they were striking so they deserved it. I’m not going to kill my old pal just because he ruins the economy.”  
“Alright. Sure. Got any clue who did it then.” his voice reeks with scepticism.  
“Well for starters, the communist, Ancom/Post-Left, Anprim and that's just off the top of my head. You become quite unpopular when you get this rich.”  
“Alright sure. Well, let’s hope you’re not next.”  
“Don’t worry about me, Minarchist. I have my suspicions about what happened.” I grin.  
“I was never worried about you, you're very good at looking out for yourself. I was worried about A-”  
I hang up on him.  
  
  
I pour myself some bourbon. It's going to be a long flight.  
  


**Posadist  
** Naz locks himself in his room for the following week. He doesn’t eat much and just cries. But finally, he surfaces in the morning after ignoring us for the aforementioned week.  
“Are ve ready?”  
“Ready to what?”  
“Deal with the Kulak of course. We can do it tomorrow.” he plasters on a gleeful smile but I can see in his eyes that nothing has changed in his mood. He’s still grieving, I don’t know if the others can tell but I can.

  
  
Later that night, I knock on Tankie's door, I know Post-Left is going to be there.  
“Come in.”  
They’re lying in their bed with pajamas on, listening to something via their earbuds. They pull one out.  
“Well considering that we’ll be dealing with Ancap soon and me and Tankie will be in the tank so we can’t use it, I have something for you.”  
I hold out the Supersoaker, they stand up and I give it to them.  
“Thank you, Posadist. I know what the gun means to you, I'll take good care of it.” they smile at me, their eyes a mix of sadness and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also the chapter title is the name of a YT video or something but I saw it in shitpost form


	8. Last meal on death row - Chapter Eight

**Commie** **  
** We are sitting in dead silence at the dinner table. I cooked them all borscht and it actually tastes pretty good but the rest barely eat anything especially Post-Left.  
“Anarkiddie, you must eat, you look like you have been in gulag for 5 years. Naz you are growing boy, you have to eat.”  
Anarkiddie doesn’t reply, they just give me a sad smile. Whereas Naz just sighs. They’re all acting like it’s their last meal on death row. But at least it’s a damn good meal.  
  
Naz coughs.  
“Does Post-Left not owe the Kulak money?”  
We all look at him.  
“Continue,” I say.   
“Does the Kulak not love money over everything? So we just give Post-Left a lot of money, they tell Ancap they’re being held captive and they want to defect. So they say “hey dear Ancap pick me up somewhere so I can escape.” but there I am vith them. So Post-Left goes “oops change of plan, I am being guarded.” by handing Ancap a note.  
Ve could just shoot the Kulak right there or ve can do something that’ll hurt the Kulak even more. Ve somehow get Ancap to take us to his mansion. Posadist and Tankie are vaiting in Ancapistan with a tank. Or they drive to Ancapistan vhile we do. And then we can give you all clear and you smash his house but we disable security cameras first so they don't see you coming. At midnight we invade. Ve completely destroy the place then ve hope the crippling poor… get inspired...”  
The rest of the table looks at him in dead silence. Posadist is the first to speak up.  
“Naz, that's actually a really good plan. When did you think of that?”  
“I had plenty of time.” his voice cold, but his eyes are full of fiery determination and revolutionary fervour.  
  
  
  
**Post-Left**  
I make the call.  
They all stand around me at the front door watching me as I do.  
“Ancap?”  
“Nice to hear your voice again my good friend, what do you want?” he drawls, followed by a sniffle.  
“Please help me Ancap?”  
“What do you mean, help me? And for what price?”  
“Please Ancap, this is not about the money. Please I want to defect and there’s no one else who has my back. You’re the only one who can help me. Please?” I try and put as much desperation in my voice as I possibly can.  
“For how much, when and where.” it’s punctuated with another sniffle.  
“So there’s a village near where they’re keeping me, meet me outside the convenience store and I'll give you an extra month's worth of rent.” It's actually a thirty-minute drive from the bunker but the last thing we want to do is reveal our location.

Ancap's silver convertible pulls up outside the convenience store. Luckily it has 4 seats otherwise we'd have run into a problem.  
He looks a bit alarmed to see Nazbol. I have my prepared note up my hoodie sleeve.  
"Hi, Ancap, nice to see you”. Naz has two pistols tucked away and I have the Supersoaker and my pistol hidden deep in my hoodie which renders my body shapeless and hides the guns.  
He quickly looks at the two of us standing on the footpath.  
"Well hop in."  
I get in next to him and pass him the note as discreetly as I can. It tells him that Naz is “guarding” me and that we can get rid of him in Ancapistan when I'm safe.   
"Well first I have to ask you, do you have the money Post-Left?"  
"Да we have the money."  
"Well show me it Lil' Nazbol."  
Naz, who's sitting behind Ancap hands him my old backpack. It's filled with mostly forged money in fat bundles. Ancap’s eyes light up, literally. I can see the golden dollar signs shining through his sunglasses.  
Naz tugs it from him.  
"Нет.” his face emotionless and his voice commanding. Ancap looks at the 12-year-old, crestfallen. 

The disappointment changes to confusion. The last thing we need is Ancap realising that Naz is meant to be here. Ancap just thinks I’m defecting and therefore he has to take me to his mansion but in his mind, he has to have a good reason to get me there without alerting Naz.  
I see Ancap tense up. If he catches on that I'm a trojan horse, we’re screwed.  
"Uh Ancap, Nazbol has gotten it into his head that he wants to see Ancapistan. He's never seen Ancapistan." I try to save the situation.   
"Hahaha damn, right he has. Let me guess, you're going to say you want to see a nation with strong borders just like your father? Fantastic." that unintentionally hits a nerve, I see Naz’s face crumple but Ancap isn’t paying attention.  
He fiddles around with his Spotify playlist and then rapidly accelerates the car till we're safely over the speed limit and far away from the little village.

Lady Gaga comes on.  
_Check out I’m blond, I'm skinny, I'm rich  
_ "Why are you playing degenerate music?" Naz grumbles.  
"Shut up statist. Or the free hand of the market will have to remove you from my car." he lets out his signature smug laugh.  
"Jew." mumbles. Ancap gives no verbal indication he heard it but his mouth irons out into a grim line and the car goes silent.  
  
  
**Ancap** **  
** The sun set a long time ago, slipped under the horizon and so I ended up pulling into a rest stop for McDonald’s. I hand them a 50 dollar note and tell them to go buy something.  
I just wait in the parking lot, the fresh air settling my turbulent stomach slightly. I need something to calm my nerves but first I call Libertarian. He picks up instantly.  
“Hey, babe.”  
“We’re nearly home but we have the Nazbol in tow. Post-Left gave me a note saying that Naz is meant to be guarding them so they can’t run away. How true that is we’ll see and it doesn’t really matter. They do have the money. Remember to keep the private police out of sight. We can’t alert them.”  
  
They’re back soon with paper bags and a cardboard drink holder in tow. Post-Left’s beaming smile mocks me unintentionally. Like they’re rubbing it in my face that I’m tense and anxious but they’re having the time of their life.  
“Cya love. I gotta go.” and I hang up.  
  
“Hey Ancap, we got you some chicken nuggets.”  
“Haha but no thanks.”  
I’d probably just throw them up. Instead I get out my wallet, it has a little mirror in it (which I had specially made) and I take it out along with my credit card. Naz looks at me weirdly.  
“Hey Post-Left want some? For a fee of course.” I shake my baggy in their direction and in turn they shake their head.  
“I just got clean.” their face expressionless and their smile has vanished. I just shrug.  
“Well do you want some Nazbol?”  
“Нет.” he glares at me.  
The atmosphere of my car drops into the negatives, cold, tense and dead silent.  
  
I pull onto the highway and break the silence.  
"Well it seems to be getting late, nothing is stopping you from staying at my mansion for the night. For a fee of course. I have to pay the mortgage somehow.”  
“The capitalists will sell us the rope ve hang them with.”  
“C’mon Nazbol no fighting in my car.” I add my little smug laugh on the end but it just sounds forced.  
Naz mumbles something about Kulaks and firing squads which neither of us in the front really catch but I can handle some death threats. It’s going to pay off in the end.  
  
  
  
**Post-left**  
Ancap’s convertible pulls up in front of his mansion, cruises around his fountain and parks in front of his door. It’s a large property, gated of course and with a well-manicured lawn. It’s on a hill which is probably intentional, there is no point in having a massive house if you can’t show it off. Or at least that’s what Ancap probably thinks.  
We hop out of the car. Naz hands me the bag and I just stand there clutching it, as if my life depended on it.  
  
Ancap leads us inside. It’s two-storeyed and made out of beige stone with decently sized windows. The front door sits in a massive two-storey high arch, flanked by Corinthian columns and some well-trimmed Cyprus trees.  
“Well do you like it? 58 million dollars and the kitchen is 5000 square feet, that’s bigger than your tiny, old apartment Post-Left many times over.”  
“Fucking Kulak. Do not mock the working class.” spits Naz.  
“Hahaha I’m not a Kulak, I am far above that. I’m a multimillionaire.”  
“Porky.” and he spits on the ground, his face deformed with disgust.  
“Keep it up Lil’ Naz and I’ll get my private police to deal with you. You know they are the best police that money can buy.”  
  
  
We end up having dinner in a massive wood-paneled dining room, joined by Libertarian who greets Ancap with a kiss on the cheek. The opulence borders on garish.  
It’s an awkward and silent dinner. Even Naz is as quiet as the grave. Well until he pipes up of course.  
“Vhy do I surround myself with such degeneracy? Having to witness you in engaging in homosexual activities and then this degenerate bourgeois palace.”  
Ancap puts down his silver cutlery and places his head on his hands, with his elbows planted on the table.  
“Well my dear friend, you choose to come here. If you don’t want to be here, I can always remove you from my property. With force of course.” his voice is sweet, but his face is decorated with a dangerous smile.  
  
  
Ancap gives us rooms which are right next to each other. They’re just as extravagant as the rest of the house and feel barely lived in. Large king bed with crisp sheets and a marbled ensuite. I try to talk to Naz and he ignores me whenever I try. Until he knocks on my door.  
“Anarkiddie?”  
“Yeah?” I let him in.  
I know he doesn’t want to talk to me but we have to for the sake of the Killdozer (which we still haven't named) and the rest of the gang. It’s 11pm and we have till 12 and then they’ll launch the assault.  
  
  
  
We steal down the corridors of Ancap’s mansion, the place is dark. Our rooms are situated on the second floor so we start from there. We look in each room, trying to find the damn security room. I don’t know how we’ll take out the personnel in the security room but we’ll deal with it when we get there.  
  
11.23. We’ve searched every room on the left-wing of the second floor. Just bedrooms and other assorted crap.  
  
11.34. We’ve now searched the right-wing. Naz’s breaths are getting frantic and he’s given up on sneaking. He’s practically running.  
“Naz. Stop. This isn't working. I bet the security room is in the basement. Who would keep a security room near the bedrooms.”  
He gives me a quick nod and we try our best to sneak to Ancap’s massive marble staircase. Luckily it’s empty. We barrel down two flights of it. Into the basement, we go. It’s a wood panelled corridor like the rest of the house. We hear footsteps. Naz’s eyes fill with panic and he shoves me into the nearest room. It’s completely dark and I can’t make out anything. I can’t even see Naz. We stand there for what feels like an eternity. Our hearts hammering in our ears and the darkness suffocating us. They must be able to hear us. There is no way they can’t hear us. And then the person passes.  
  
11.45. We fling ourselves back into the corridor, searching all the rooms and then I find one right at the end. The handle won’t turn and the door won’t budge. It’s locked.  
Naz, from under his thick soviet winter jacket, pulls out one of his handguns. It has a silencer attached to the end, he aims it at the door, his hands trembling. He shoots twice, one shot hits the lock. It’s still very loud though, like a thump on a wall instead of the sound of a regular gunshot. And we shove the door open.  
  
11.56. Inside is the security desk, completely unattended. Monitors showing grainy pictures of outside the gates and other locations cover the wall. Naz pulls out the other gun and starts at the monitors with desperation. Empty cartridges fall on the ground by his feet and the room starts to fill with smoke.  
“NO NAZ, THE BOXES. THE DESKTOP. THE POWER SUPPLY”  
I fling myself on the ground and start looking for the casing. I find it and drag it out from the desk. The cables rip out of the computer and I fling the box two metres away from me. It hits the ground and the plastic casing gives way partially. Naz finishes it off with some frantic shots.  
  
  
  
  
By now we can hear the sound of running down the hallway. Now it clicks in my brain that this was pointless. There was no one watching the security cameras.  
“I AM NOT PAYING YOU TO BE USELESS” Ancap bellows.  
“IF YOU FIND THEM, DON’T SHOOT.”  
I train the gun at the door. Waiting. Naz follows my example, his arms shaking. We just stand there. I taste blood in my mouth, I didn’t even realise I had been chewing on my lip whereas Naz’s face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  
  
  
One of Ancap’s private policemen flings open the door, four guns trained at us.  
“HANDS UP, WEAPONS ON THE GROUND.”  
We drop the firearms. We’re told to kneel with our hands above our heads and then we’re handcuffed.  
  
  
  
I guess it was all for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all reminds me of a video of a libertarian convention where someone got booed since they suggested a ban on selling heroin to kids


	9. From Russia, with love - Chapter Nine

I climb into the tank and take off the AK which I had slung on my back and start up the tank. Posadist is my co-driver and we’re both wearing earmuffs.  
“Tankie I hate these. They’re going to crush my antennae.” xe whines.  
“Tovarish we have no time for comfort.”   
  
We start to roll up the road to Ancap’s mansion. Sirens go off once we smash through his front gate.   
I am looking through the periscope but I pull the right lever too late and we careen through Ancap’s fountain and his convertible. Water starts running out of the smashed fountain. The tank crushes the car like a nutcracker crushes a hazelnut.   
Xe’s quickly punching the ammunition into the breach and then shooting. Acting as both the gunner and the loader. One hits Ancap’s archway, and it collapses in on itself, burying the front door. Another shot fires into the facade of the building, clipping Cyprus trees and smashing windows.   
  
  
  
I was worried that the concrete casing was going to be overkill. I quickly change my mind as I hear the noises of helicopters in the distance and private police ooze out of the back of the mansion. Guns aimed at the tank but they do nothing, ricocheting off the concrete cladding spewing up flakes of concrete or they do manage to penetrate the concrete but never touch the steel underneath. Maybe I might actually be able to recover the tank.   
The tank leaves deep holes in Ancap’s lawn, flicking up grass behind it. I do doughnuts, trying to run over and destroy everything I can. Ancom would be proud of me, wanton destruction and chaos but Ancom is dead. And all while Posadist shoots at the mansion.

  
  
The helicopters are drawing closer. No signs of Anarkiddie or Naz. If we don’t retreat, we either die or we get captured and then we can’t help the other two.   
“RETREAT” I bark and roll the tank through the fence and back on the road. The potholes in the road would have been detrimental to a normal car but just like with everything else, the tank just drives through them with no issue. I’m pulling the levers as hard as possible to make it go even faster, my clammy hands gripping like a vice even though it’s already at maximum speed.   
  
The helicopters have located us. Searchlights on the tank. Posadist has stopped firing and is now leaning against the wall so we can get out of this death trap as soon as possible. Every rutt in the road jolts them around.   
I turn the tank into a small alleyway, cracking a streetlamp like a chicken bone. Sparks fly. The tank barely fits into the alley and the concrete casing scraps the buildings on either side of the alley.   
“TOVARISH GET READY TO RUN.”   
I turn off the tank, Posadist busts open the hatch at the top and scrambles onto the street. I grab my AK, sling it on my back and join Posadist on the street.   
“TOVARISH RUN.”   
We sprint through the streets of Ancapistan, trying to flee from the searchlights of the helicopters. Adrenaline and fear fueling us and my rifle is bumping against my back.   
“TOVARISH MALL.” I spot a shopping mall and ran inside the automatic doors in hopes we can lose them. We barrel through shoppers, Posadist actually knocks someone over. Like a bowling ball versus the pins. Xe yells out a hurried “sorry” and then we’re on the run again. We run past makeup stores and clothing stores and everything under the sun until we come to a random exit. Out the glass doors we go, they take too long to register my presence so I just keep running, clipping them with my shoulder. Cracks grow outwards like a spider web.   
I think we’ve lost the helicopters but we still keep running as they’re circling like hungry vultures.   
  


As the adrenaline wears off, we slow to a walk in the slowly darkening streets of Ancapistan.   
“So what are we going to do now?”   
“Find somewhere to sleep, probably on the street.”   
We just keep wandering looking for the ideal place to sleep. Most benches have anti-homeless measurements on them, bars blocking us from sleeping under stairs and spikes in front of storefront windows.   
“Tankie.” Posadist points at an old derelict house with boarded-up windows. Luckily the door isn’t locked otherwise we’d have knocked it down. Turns out we weren’t the first to think of it.   
It’s filled with squatters, junkies and the homeless, sleeping on mattresses or on the ground.   
Posadist laughs awkwardly.   
“Eheheh sorry for intruding, we just need a place for the night.”   
“Do not vorry, we come unarmed. Ve just drove a tank into a mansion and ve need to hide.” I smile with a thumbs up in order to seem friendly, completely forgetting the rifle I have slung on my back.   
  
  
  
**Posadist** **  
**We manage to find a corner for the night on the second floor. Tankie sits with his rifle across his knees talking to some residents of the building which was apparently called Euclid Court.  
“VE MUST LET THE RULING CLASS TREMBLE. THE KULAKS WHO LIVE IN THEIR MANSION WHILE EVERYONE ELSE STARVES. VE HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT OUR CHAINS BUT HAVE EVERYTHING TO WIN.” he’s shaking his fist in the air and some are listening receptively, their eyes wide open like he's their new Messiah.   
I touch his arm.   
“Maybe we should call it a night.”

  
  
**Post-Left**   
We get dragged to an indoor swimming pool. It’s a beautiful room with more of that wooden-panelling and large doors which open onto a nice garden area and the lawn beyond it. But the pool is completely empty. We get searched. Naz’s and my pistols and the Supersoaker we had all forgotten about are taken. Our handcuffs are removed, instead, our hands and legs get zip tied.   
A policeman looks at Ancap.   
“No, no, no we can’t just shove them in there. Can’t question a dead or an unconscious person.” so we get placed in the empty pool. Not before getting a swift kick to the ribs though.   
We just sit on the tiny tiles. They’re azure blue and their glossy surface makes them shine like little mirrors. It’s a beautiful prison.   
  
  
  
We barely sleep. Mainly since it’s uncomfortable, we haven't been fed, we're being held captive and the constant barrage of the tank firing on Ancap’s mansion. It feels like we’re in a bomb shelter mid blitzkrieg; safe from the destruction but the sounds of it echo out in the dark. Every time we hear the sound of the ammunition hitting the mansion, we look at each other. In hopes that it's the last shot, in hopes that Tankie and Posadist will rescue us, in hope that Ancap surrenders.  
  
  
  
But we keep waiting.  
  
  
  
Then the barrage stops.  
  
  
  
My wrists are starting to go numb. I rub them against each other. I’m scared they’re going to lose circulation. Naz is just fuming and singing marching songs loudly.   
“Trying to keep morale up?” it just comes out sounding cruel. I can't help it.  
“Leave me the fuck alone.” he snarls at me.  
“I mean I have no problem with joining in even though Fascism and Communism are both spooks and pretty horrible.”   
Together we belt out the lyrics, Naz at full volume and me just mumbling since I speak neither languages. And I’m somewhat glad I don’t since I don’t want to know what the lyrics mean. Singing about the glory of the Third Reich and the might of Stalin and the USSR.  
We sing till our voices go hoarse and our eyes start to droop.   
  
I don’t know what the time is but the sun cracks through the massive windows. Later the policemen remove the zip ties so we can eat and go to the bathroom but then we’re zip-tied again. There’s nothing we can do apart from just sit there.   
I don’t know how long we sit there for but it starts getting dark all over again. Luckily we do get more breaks now to pee but only every 5ish 4ish hours so it's constant hell and my stomach won't shut the fuck up.  
  
  
  
  
We’ve exhausted all of our riddles and songs and bad jokes. And then the sun sinks under the horizon, lighting the pool room with a warm glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short compared to the others but oh well


	10. Feather boas and nuclear splooge - Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the end in advance xoxo

Ancap waltzes up to the empty swimming pool. He has a pinky purple feather boa draped around and a Martini in hand.  
“The Dow Jones Index is recovering, I’m going to make millions, I caught a statist and a traitor. My day can’t get any better.” he takes a big sip from his cocktail and looks over the rim of his glasses. The dollar signs in his eyes twinkling like gold he was going to be swimming in and he smirks triumphantly. I can tell Naz is two seconds away from going ballistic. 

“I don’t know why you guys are here, well I do. I’m not stupid. But do you guys like my pool? Maybe I’ll fill it with money like Scrooge McDuck or the finest Swiss glacier water. Last time I used normal water, I got a rash and this skin is insured.” he drawls, enjoying the sound of his own voice.

“ANCAP YOU FUCKING N-” I interject before Naz finishes his sentence.   
I shuffle forwards to the best of my ability and do my best puppy eyes.   
“Please Ancap, from anarchist to anarchist. Please let us go. Nazbol is no harm, he’s just a multilingual child prodigy.” I channel the spirit of the depressed junkie I used to be but to no avail.  
“The Kulak is not an anarchist and I am not a child,” he grumbles.   
“Well anyway, he’s just a teen prodigy and we’re very sorry for violating the NAP.”  
“Don’t care” and then he laughs gaily.  
“You violated the NAP and Commies aren’t people. And that includes the kid.”  
“Vhen, VHEN I GET OUT OF THIS SWIMMING POOL, I WILL LINE YOU UP AGAINST THE WALL YOU MONEY GRUBBING IMPERIALIST JEW AND HAVE YOU SHOT.”  
He takes another sip from his cocktail while keeping steadfast eye contact, before placing it on a nearby table.  
“I have a little treat for you Nazbol.” and with great pizazz and a smirk, he pulls Posadist’s gun out of his blazer and aims it at Naz then back at me and then Naz again. He hesitates.   
“Hang on a second, I need a second opinion on this” and he disappears into the mansion.

“Anarkiddie?” his voice is shaky and it must have clicked in his mind that we’re tight roping over the chasm of death.   
“Yea?” I plaster on a brave face but in reality, I can barely breathe. It’s shallow and rapid and my heart is about to give in.  
“I don’t want to die.”   
“I’m not going to let you die” I look over at him and flash him my best reassuring smile. His purple eyes are wide with fear and he’s on the verge of tears.  
“Vhen, vhen we get out of here, can you please buy me the new Battlefield?” his eyes start leaking. Purple tears trickle down his cheeks like diluted food colouring.   
“Naz, I love you and we’re going to alright.” I can’t even hug him and it’s killing me.  
“You killed me dad.”  
“I’m genuinely sorry. I never meant to hurt you and I-.”

Ancap waltzes back to the pool with Libertarian in tow cuts and our conversation is short.  
“So we have decided on what we’re going to do,” says Ancap, pulling the gun out again. Libertarian puts his arm around Ancap and smiles at his business partner supportively.  
“Post-Left. Nazbol is dangerous but you’re the person who’s the real threat. You’re like a little murderous weasel, slipping through the gaps and then of course, murdering people. You killed Nazi I assume and I thought you were my friend yet you turn up here with intentions to kill me and that violates the NAP. Also, you never paid me back all the money you owed as most of it was forged. At least the Nazbol doesn’t lie about who he is. He is a brat with anger management issues and a statist tyrant in the making."

He points the gun at me. I feel like I'm going to blackout from fear.

“Any last words?”  
I don't say anything. I just stare at him, hoping that maybe he'll change his mind. I am simultaneously calm and scared shitless, like someone who's made peace with their death but is still being led to the gallows for their execution. Is this what it feels like to want death but not by your own hands and then actually get the death you were asking for?  
"Post-Left any last words?" uncertainty rippling through his voice and he shifts the gun from one hand to another and then back to the original hand. But he manages to compose himself; his back straightens and his face goes emotionless.

And then he pulls the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to write some Ancap/Ancom shit and some essays on capitalism but I am tripping balls on anxiety so the creative juices won't come


	11. Fish and chips - Chapter Eleven

**Minarchist  
** The elevator dings as the doors open. I walk out and into the entrance room of my brother's penthouse. It’s not violating the NAP if I flicked him a text that says I'm coming over.  
  
I find him in the lounge watching some crap. He has massive bags under his eyes, hunched over and he probably hasn’t showered in a few days. It’s Hoppean.  
“What do you want?”  
“Am I the only one who thinks there’s something strange going on with Ancap?”  
“What is this about? I know you like the state but that doesn’t mean you can tell Ancap what to do.”  
“Nazi destroys the economy and then he suddenly dies. And he was most likely shot by someone who Nazi would let in the house.”  
“Who cares if it was Ancap, Nazi was a degenerate anyway.”  
“How would you know that?”  
“Ignore that,” he mutters something under his breath about helicopters.  
“Hoppean, I’m worried about you. I know Nazi dying probably upset you, you guys bonded over how much you hate minorities but you need to shower and eat properly.”  
“Leave me alone plus this is normal.” he tugs on his shirt self consciously in hopes that it’d iron out all the creases.  
“You really should though, you crackhead.” I try and lighten the tone but it just backfires.  
“Crack is for coloured people. Piss off Minarchist. Get out of my bloody apartment.”  
“Fine be like that then. If you don’t need my help then I'll just leave and do it myself. Do you want to even figure out who killed Nazi?”  
“Fine,” he grumbles.  
“That’s the spirit.” I sit down next to him and pull him into a hug. He tries to squirm his way out of it at first but then gives in.  
  
He stands up and opens a kitchen drawer. Out comes a large kitchen knife and he sticks it down his pants and then pulls the shirt down to cover it.  
“We can go and talk to Ancap now.”  
“Be careful, you're going definitely going to hurt yourself. Also we will not violate the NAP under any circumstances. Got it?”  
“Alright but I can make no promises.” he glowers with a menacing smile.  
  
  
  
  
We hop into my car. Hoppean fidgets as I drive, constantly adjusting the knife down his pants. It’s late when we pull up at Ancap’s mansion. It looks like any old photo of a city in 40s, rubble and smashed stone from the facade litter the ground like confetti. Water runs down the drive way, the lawn is marred with tread marks and heavy with water in the places where it can't drain. **  
** **  
** We’d ring the doorbell but there is no doorbell anymore. So I flick Ancap a text.  
“No response.”  
“Weird. Try calling Libertarian.”  
Luckily he picks up.  
  
“Howdy Minarchist.”  
“What the hell is going on. We want to talk to Ancap.”  
“Uh sorry, we’re a bit busy at the moment.” in the background I hear screaming and yelling.  
“What the fuck is going on.”  
Libertarian laughs nervously and then he hangs up. Hoppean's face contorts into a scary grimace.  
  
  
And then he takes one look at the segments of the facade in front of the door and starts making his way to it. I follow him, water seeping into my shoes.  
His face full of fiery determination, he tries to clamber to the front door. Not making it far over the mounds of rubble before I pull him back to my car.  
“What if we try around the side of his house.”  
“We’re going the fuck home. We’ve violated Ancap’s NAP enough already.”  
  
  
  
We stop at dingy fish and chips shop in a part of town we usually don’t frequent: the slums. So where the majority of Ancapistan’s population live.  
A homeless person asks for change, sitting outside the store with his box full of belongings sitting next to him. I ignore him but Hoppean just spits at him. I hear the distant noise of helicopters and shots but pay no attention to them. You get used to them in Ancapistan.  
The bell rings when I open the door and everyone looks at us. They’re all regular people. They are the crippling poor. I walk to the counter while Hoppean just menacingly scowls at the other customers. I give him a nudge.  
"Stop that. You're making profits go down." instead he just scowls at me.  
“2 chips with fish please.” and I put a 20 dollar note on the counter. The man looks at me with scorn but takes the money.  
  
When we get back to the car, someone had thrown a milkshake on the windscreen. Pastel pink milky art, slowly dripping onto the polished hood. We hop in and open the fish and chips and just eat it in the car. I’ll just get it cleaned later. I make it the car spray from the little jets onto the windscreen and I turn the wipers on. Instead of cleaning it, it just spreads it around a bit more.  
I grab a bottle of water and crack it open. I pour it all on the windscreen and Hoppean just watches me while eating his chips ravenously, just shoveling them in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten since last week.   
  
  
“Minarchist?”  
“Yeah?”  
I keep trying to clean the windscreen.  
“Look at Ancap’s mansion.”  
I look at Hoppean, he’s staring into the distance, that’s not abnormal but I follow his eyes. Ancap’s mansion is aflame. There’s something surreal and ethereal about it. It’s massive and absolutely no one is trying to put it out. This is would it would be like watching David slay Goliath. The largest, most impressive symbol of Ancapistan being devoured by flames. Everything that Ancapistan stood for going up in flames. We just stand there and watch, our mouths agape. Fascinated by the beacon of orange fury and the black smoke on the horizon.  
  
  
  
"Minarchist, do something." he snaps me out of my trance. So I try and call Ancap again. This time he picks up.  
“What do you want? I’m busy.”  
“Did you kill Nazi. What the hell is going on. Why is your house on fire.” I hear the sound of helicopter blades.  
“Haha don’t worry about it. Just had some Commies violate my NAP. Don’t fret.” and then he hangs up. I call him again.  
“What the hell do you want, Minarchist.”  
“Who killed Nazi?”  
“For the trillionth time, IT WASN’T FUCKING ME, IT WAS THE COMMIES.” he hangs up again.  
  
  
  
  
“FUCK IT. Hoppean we’re going to find Ancap.”  
“He has a mansion on the other side of town.”  
“Do you even know where exactly?” I press on the accelerator, the car jumps forward and we drive through the empty snaking streets of Ancapistan in search of Ancap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not British (not a yank either doe). Sorry for the cliffhanger? don’t know if its even one. But it’s justifiable and plot relevant at least.
> 
> I'm very drained so i'm sorry if this is short or average. Shit's gonna get better and more exciting in the next chapter


	12. Statist cathedrals but in Spanish style - Chapter Twelve

The stream of Gamma rays burst out of the gun and hit me relentlessly. Ancap’s eyes are filled with a vengeful glint and he doesn’t take his finger off the trigger. He’s gripping it so hard that his knuckles are going white. And Naz is screaming at Ancap, at Stalin, at Libertarian, at Julius Evola, cursing every living being under the sun. Libertarian just itches his upper lip where his moustache is and shrugs. His phone starts vibrating and he leaves the room quickly.

  
I feel like I'm a burrito in a microwave. My brain is spinning like the glass plate. Being cooked from the inside out. He doesn’t remove it until the charge runs out and drops it on the ground. I crumple like a sheet of paper about to be tossed into a trashcan.   
Then something weird happens, by the power of Mitosis or some other miracle of political science. A form starts forming next to me like a hologram slowly materialising. It forms a human in a workers jumpsuit holding a lit Molotov. I instantly realise who they are.   
  
  
“Adiós Ancap” they say in a thick Spanish accent and lob the Molotov at Ancap.   
  
  
Libertarian shoves Ancap to the ground, out of the path of the Molotov. But it shatters on the wall, igniting the wooden-panelling behind him and the coattails of Libertarian’s suit. He’s freaking out but with Ancap’s help, they manage to stamp it out.   
“This did not go as planned” Ancap grins at us. He’s still cool as a cucumber but I can tell it’s a mask. No one can be this calm in a shitshow like this.   
Libertarian pulls out his phone and starts dialing for the private fire brigade.   
“Uh ah,” he wags his finger at Libertarian and then winks at us.   
“Babe we have another mansion. We can afford to let this one burn.” he gives us one last smug smile and then they walk out onto the lawn and a helicopter whisks them away.

  
Syndie pulls out a pocket knife and starts sawing at my zip ties.   
“No Naz, free him.” and then I pass out.   
  
**Commie** **  
**I feel Posadist’s clawed hand on my shoulder, aggressively shaking me and waking me.  
“TANKIE ANCAP’S MANSION.”   
People are crowding around a singular glassless window in the second storey watching silently. It’s a window facing towards Ancap’s mansion. Posadist drags me to the window. I shove the residents out of the way without effort and peer out the window. Instant dread runs through my veins like heroin and I grab Posadist and my AK-47 and start running.   
  


Me and Posadist sprint up Ancap’s very destroyed and muddy lawn. The mansion which has gone up in flames is burning like a beacon and the crippling poor are watching outside the gates in both horror and awe. Heat radiates from the burning hot building.  
  
We run around the mansion since the front facade is completely demolished. Posadist has started wheezing but my legs are still pumping stronger than the Berlin Wall.   
And there we see them. Three figures splayed out on the lawn behind his mansion.   
“NAZ, MY BABY! ANARKIDDIE!” I scream hoarsely, the smoke from the fire is messing with my throat.   
We get to the three figures. One of them is what I assume to be another anarchist, they’re wearing a red and black bicoloured cap and the other two are Anarkiddie and Naz.   
“TOVARISH CHECK ANARCHIST CAP PERSON FOR PULSE”.   
I fling myself onto the grass in between Naz and Anarakiddie, my knees leaving dents in the grass. Anarkiddie is out stone cold. I hope. They look like the ghosts they claim to bust. Weak and frail. And Naz is just lying there coughing, his ushanka missing and he’s bawling.   
“TANKIE, CAP PERSON HAS PULSE.”   
“DAD I COULDN’T SAVE THEM. I’M SORRY. DAD! DAD! DAD!”   
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I start to fumble around for Anarkiddie’s pulse. My fingers are trembling so much that I can’t find it. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. I keep running my finger up and down their neck in panic. I finally find it.   
“ANARKIDDIE HAS PULSE!”   
Even though that’d be good news, something cracks in me.   
  
  
  
**Posadist** **  
**Tankie starts beating the ground, tears trickling down his face.  
“IT’S ALL MY FUCKING FAULT” he bawls.   
“Tankie let’s get out of here.” I gently tap my brother's shoulder. He just keeps crying.   
  
  
I manage to get Tankie to pull himself together enough that we can leave this place. We stagger onto the main road with the anarchist in tow. Naz is leaning on me, his knees weak and his ushanka gone in the fire. Tankie carries the limp Anarkiddie, they flop around like a ragdoll in his arms. His strong mask keeps flickering off and off. Between emotionless and tears.   
  
  
  
A car pulls up behind us. It’s a white Bentley Sedan with tinted windows. Two figures clamber out of the car. One disheveled lunatic with a knife in his hand and another one in a dark blue coat who’s a lot more friendly-looking.   
“COMMIES GET FORCEFULLY REMOVED INTO THE OCEAN.” yells the knife-wielding one and attempts to try and make a move. The one in the coat pulls him back.   
“Anarchist take Anarkiddy.” Tankie hands Post-Left like a potato sack to the Anarchist. Who struggles under Post-Left’s weight.   
Tankie removes the AK-47 from his back.   
“Stay vhere you are or I shoot.”   
They start to make their way towards us slowly.   
“We just want to talk.” says the one in the coat.   
“About vhat?”   
“Nazi.” Tankie gulps, his rifle switching between the two as they edge closer.   
“Who killed Nazi.” demands the man with a knife.   
“If you fucking touch my comrades; I vill kill you. If you lay one hand on my family; I vill gun you down.” he stands with his back straight and his face contorted.  
“Woah calm down Commie. We just want to talk. Who killed Nazi?” the man tries to calm Commie but it’s like trying to calm a very large angry bear. It does nothing.   
“Maybe we should just run?” I tell Tankie but he seems to not have heard me.   
“Did you kill Nazi?”   
“Нет.”   
“Do you know who killed him?”   
“Да and I vill not tell you who,” he says matter-of-factly.   
“Please just tell us. My brother is very upset.”   
“It vas P-” pipes up Naz. I clamp my hand over his mouth.   
“Shut up, shut up let me think.” Tankie goes quiet and pinches the bridge of his nose, the AK now no longer points at the capitalists but they still don’t move.   
“I know you Kulaks love deals. I have one for you.”   
“What?”   
“You give us the car and ve let you live. Ve didn’t think through how we’d get home.”   
The man with the knife mutters something to his companion. The man in the coat looks at his car and then back at us, his usefully cheerful face clouded with fear.   
“I’m sure you can afford another car. El cerdo.”   
“Да, да. I agree. Valk three paces and place the keys on the ground or someone gets shot.” his AK-47 is trained on them.   
“Tovarish get the keys.” he gestures at me with his head and I grab them.   
“Now run Kulaks.”   
They disappear into the night.   
  


  
We clamber into the Bently. It’s a four-seater with incredible cream leather seats but smells a bit like food grease. I fling myself into the driver's seat. Tankie grabs Post-Left again and climbs in the back, usually, the control freak would love to sit shotgun or drive. Instead, he has Anarkiddie draped across his lap, his face sombre and I can tell he’s about to cry. The other anarchist hops in the back and Naz goes shotgun.   
“Hey, Naz enter the address into the GPS.” and then we start the cruise home.   
  
6 hours and a short break later, we pull up in the driveway. The Bentley is a stark contrast to Tankie’s battered pickup truck. We clamber out of the car.   
Tankie’s eyes look glazed and he still has Anarkiddie in his arms. Naz would be grumbling but he’s tired, his shoulders hunched. We’re all tired.   
We make the 100m walk back to the bunker.   
  
_  
_   
We’re all sitting at the dining table minus Post-Left. Neither Naz or the anarchist have talked about what happened in Ancapistan.   
“Vho are you?” Tankie grills the anarchist, his eyes narrowed and his face cold.   
“Anarcho-Syndicalism,” they reply anxiously.   
“Oh, it’s you. Stupid fucking anarchist” Tankie spits.   
“SHUT UP SHUT UP LEAVE THEM ALONE.” yells Naz on the verge of tears, he stands and starts waving his hands.   
“THEY SAVED US. THEY’RE ANARKIDDIE.”   
We all look at him like he’s mad.   
“That is not Anarkiddie. Naz you must be mistaken. I carried Anarkiddie home.” Tankie says flatly.   
“Ancap shot Anarkiddie. And it created the Syndicalist.”   
“Si, Nazbol tells it as it is.” chimes in the anarchist.   
“Vell Anarkiddie had no bullet holes.”   
“Posadist’s gun.”   
“I vill find the Kulak and throttle him.” Tankie’s eyes are liquid fury.   
“First he fucks with my son and then with Anarkiddie. Sure I have killed people but I have not designed a system where people toil in the mud just so I can buy another mansion. I vill find everything he loves and destroy it.” he jabs with his finger at the air, his voice full of venom.   
“Ehehe I reckon Anarkiddie still had a bit of Ancom in them and that split off”   
  
  
  
**Post-Left**   
I wake up in a bed. My head is spinning.   
But at least I recognise the room, it’s mine and Tankie’s room. And there he is, he’s in the corner, dozed off with a copy of _Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism_ open on his lap.   
“Tankie?”   
He jolts out of his nap.   
“Huh vhat?.”   
He rushes over to me, grinning from ear to ear. He leans over me, his hands next to my head and kisses me. His ushanka nearly falls off.   
“What’s the capital of the CCCP.”   
“The USSR is dead, Tankie”.  
  
  


“Да, да vhatever, who cares, you are right in the head.” he kisses me again.


	13. Epilogue

**Ancom**  
We’re all seated around the kitchen table but this time we’re in a proper house. We had to move out of the bunker due to unsafe levels of radiation which is ironic since bunkers are meant to protect from radiation. But at least it means me and Tankie get a proper bed instead of having to squish in a single person cot.  
But luckily the property we managed to get our hands on is right next door to the bunker which Posadist decided to keep working in.  
Tankie did go back to get his tank. It’s not in the best condition but he has it in the front yard like a junker car and is trying to bring it back to its original condition.   
  
  


We’re gathered around a new and larger kitchen table. Posadist is also here.  
“Me and Syndie have finally agreed on something.”  
“I hope you agreed to shut up about Spain.” mumbles Posadist snidely. Naz chortles.  
“Ve will unite the proletariat of Ancapistan, the cripplingly poor. If ve both do it, it vill be like checks and balances. Vill, it not?”  
“Dad when you average it out like on the political compass, it sounds a lot like Left Communism.” smiles Naz deviously.  
“IT IS NOTHING LIKE LEFT COMMUNISM. Naz you should know that Left Communism is an infantile disorder. Name a single Left Communist who is not an annoying little baby. Ve are just vorking together.” he gesticulates wildly.  
“WORKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE.” Syndie punches the air.  
We all cheer. Tankie stands up to get the shot glasses.  
“Да, I think we need to drink on that.”  
**  
  
  
  
**

Me and Naz stand outside the doors of GameStop at two in the morning.  
“You sure about this?” he whines.  
“Well you did ask for the new Battlefield”  
“Да but not like this.”  
We’re both wearing Black Bloc getup, our faces completely hidden and I have a crowbar in hand.   
“This is very illegal.”  
“The law is a spook.”

**Minarchist  
** We stroll through the dark streets of Ancapistan, the nasty air stinging at our lungs but we do manage to make it back to a main road. From there on, I manage to hail a taxi.  
“I feel like I’m a fucking poor person, riding in a bloody taxi. And the taxi driver is fucking Indian.” grumbles Hoppean.  
  
  
But we make it home safely.  
  


**Ancap  
** We watch our mansion go up in flames from the air. My lip starts to quiver and I push my glasses up my nose. I am way too rich to be crying about a mansion and most likely the fall of Ancapistan in my helicopter. It’s decked out with leather recliners,a TV and a minifridge. A normal helicopter on the outside but inside we’re flying business class.  
  
Libertarian notices and scoots over to me and wraps his arms around me, my face in his neck. My sunglasses are nearly crushed but I take them off. And then I cry. I cry it all out. Ancapistan, my dreams, the mansion. It leaves a wet patch on his shoulder but he doesn't mind.  
  
“Where to now sweetheart.” he rubs my back in a circular motion.  
“Cayman Islands.” I hesitate. He smiles at me.  
“A tax haven, a tropical mansion and we can finally have some time to ourselves.” I can’t help but smile at him and give him a kiss.  
“I love you so much.”  
“I love you too” he hums back at me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrm today I will write libunity, kinda dont wanna start chucking it up on here yet doe since that kinda scares me but at the same time im scared that the new centricide stuff coming out might seriously jumble up crap ie extremists dying
> 
> Genuinely thank you so fucking much for everyone who read this shit and commented and so on and so on. Thank you so fucking much and it means so much to me. Thank you


End file.
